Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2)

by Thomas Quinn Miller

  Riff's mentor, Master Almoriz, the Sorcerer of Whispering Rock, told them they should seek out a tradesman named Dagbar, who lived in a human settlement like the Cradle. Of course, this settlement was on the edge of the Deepwood, forest of the Elves. Ghile knew as much about the Deepwood and the elves as he did Dagbar or the Fallen City.

  “One is as good as the other,” Ghile said.

  Riff considered for a long time. The sound of Gaidel's soft humming filled the silence.

  “Master Almoriz spoke of the Fallen City. It was one of the largest human cities before the Great Purge. I do not know what it was called before then. But, as one of the largest cities, it drew the attention of Daomur himself.”

  “Master Almoriz said Daomur split the ground asunder with his great hammer, causing the city to collapse inwards. I do not know if it is named for the hubris of the humans who lived there or for the punishment Daomur inflicted on it for Haurtu's actions,” Riff said.

  Ghile wondered what the stonechosen girl was doing in such a place. He discovered his first soulstone in the ancient ruins at the base of the Horn, the large mountain which cut the upper part of the Cradle into Upper and Lower Vale. He later came to understand it had once been a temple. He had not thought to ask Muk, who was now in his dreaming, where the goblin had found his soulstone. It was something he would have to do.

  “Now the elves, let's see…” Riff wrinkled his face as he searched his memories.

  “Other than humans, the elves were the only other race who suffered as many losses during the God Wars and it is said they are not a prolific race to start with,” Riff said.

  “I have never met one, but they are said to be beautiful to look upon. It is also said their goddess, Islmur, dotes on them. They do not call themselves elves, either. But, I cannot remember what Master Almoriz called them.”

  Riff shrugged.

  “What I do remember is they fought alongside the dwarves during the Great Purge and took from us the language of the gods, taught to them by Islmur herself.”

  “Master Almoriz said it was the language the sorcerers of old used to command great magics. The powers some of us are blessed with today are mere shadows of the power they held.” There was no mirth in Riff's voice when he spoke of the elves or their goddess.

  “Anyway, after Haurtu was exiled from Allwyn, Daomur forbid Islmur or the elves to share the god's tongue with anyone,” Riff said.

  Ghile could not imagine what powers they must possess. The few sorcerers born to the human race were thought of as mere tinkerers. They made everflame torches, put edges on tools and weapons which hardly showed wear from use and mended pots.

  Since becoming Stonechosen, Ghile had come to understand they had more power than they shared with others. A sorcerer could force his will on the environment, making it change to his desires. But, they needed to touch a small token of whatever they affected. Riff called it the source. His belt held various “sources” in numerous pouches and bags.

  Ghile had seen Riff hurl forth a gout of flame from his hands, using his everflame as a source to fuel the magic. He had also seen the sorcerer Almoriz control a field full of bonfires, causing their flames to take to the skies and then come back down and crash into themselves sending burning ash everywhere. Master Almoriz had done this to cover Ghile's escape from the dwarven culler.

  “As for Dagbar, I know no more than you. He is a merchant in a settlement somewhere on the edge of the Deepwood,” Riff said.

  Ghile looked around him and shook his head. “I can't believe this is all really happening, Riff.”

  “What do you mean?” Riff said.

  “It seems like yesterday I was tending the flocks, leaning on this spear, and wishing something exciting would happen. Now look at me.”

  “It sounds like you should be more careful what you wish for,” Riff said.

  Ghile nodded, tossing small weeds into the flames as he considered.

  “Do you think my family is alright?” Ghile said.

  “I'm sure they are, Ghile. Your uncle is a Fang and your father a chieftain. They will see to your people.”

  “I can't believe Last Hamlet is gone. I can't help-”

  “Oh no, don't start that again,” Riff said, “How many times do I have to tell you it was not your fault what those thrice damned dwarves did to your village?”

  Ghile raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

  The two sat there in silence listening to Gaidel's soft humming. Ghile just noticed Gaidel was no longer accompanied by the sounds of the fen when she opened her eyes and stared right through him.

  “To arms, we are not alone,” she called.

  Gaidel sat in the relaxed position she had been trained to from her earliest days as a druid.

  Most people would find sitting with their legs bent under them, their back rigid, unbearable after a few minutes, but Gaidel could maintain the position for hours.

  She was not fully lost in the song. In that state she was completely enveloped and lost in its sounds, having no awareness of what went on around her. She could only remain fully in the song for a short time for fear of being swallowed and carried away by it.

  It was for that reason Gaidel practiced this technique every day. She followed the same process she used to enter the song, but stopped just before leaving her body and immersing herself.

  In the beginning, she could hear nothing, the pain of the position and her mind constantly distracting her. Over time, the pain subsided and her mind calmed until she was able to just detect the faintest whisper of the All Mother's dream.

  Gaidel was humming along with the song, listening to its ebbs and flows. Everything that was the All Mother contributed its voice to the cacophony. The wind, with its bright full timbre quickly danced over the slow drumming boom of the ground; the small copse of trees' warm graceful voice moved in methodical rhythm. She could also hear Riff and Ghile talking softly across the small fire from her while also hearing Riff's own song flow by.

  Gaidel felt every living creature on Allwyn had its part in the endless song of the All Mother. That is until she met Ghile. Ghile no longer had a song.

  It had not been long since they fought the goblin and his worgs on the Horn. She was still upset at Ghile for recklessly running off ahead of them in pursuit of the goblin, while the rest of them battled the frost wyrm. They were meant to protect the Stonechosen. Luckily, Riff was able to break free of battle and follow. By the time she and Two Elks defeated the beast and tracked Ghile and Riff to the cave, the battle with the goblin and his worgs was over.

  Ghile succeeded in rescuing his uncle from the goblin, but suffered serious wounds. Gaidel feared she had already failed in the task Mother Brambles had given her in protecting Ghile when she entered the cave and saw Riff huddled over Ghile's slumped form. She immediately entered the song and tried to speed his healing.

  It was one of the first lessons taught to young druids and she had done it many times before. Once in the song, she sought Ghile's song, yet found nothing. Even the worst of creatures who were living against the path Allwyn set for them had a discordant song.

  But Ghile's song was gone.

  Gaidel could only come to one conclusion. Ghile was no longer a part of the All Mother. Gaidel was honor bound to protect him, but she wished she knew what it was she was now protecting. What other changes were the soulstones causing him?

  The change in the whispers of the All Mother's song jarred Gaidel back to the present. She could hear new rhythms.

  Five creatures were stealthily approaching. They were large beasts, hunters. All were female and Gaidel could hear the hunger and need to feed their young in their song. The song was strong and in tune with the All Mother. She was not deep enough into the dream song to reach out to them, to try and dissuade them from attacking. Even if she had time to swim deeper into the song and try to get them to hear her voice, she doubted they would listen. They were attuned to the All Mother and following their true path.
It pained her to think they would have to harm these creatures. But, she had to warn the others.

  “To arms! We are not alone,” she called.

  Two Elks sensed trouble even before the little daughter called out her warning. The ceremony which bound them as druid and shieldwarden had entwined their two songs as one.

  He was up with the comforting weight of his shield along his one arm and the balanced weight of his stone axe in the other.

  He did not yet know what he faced, but he was ready to defend the little daughter if she needed to fully enter the song. He banged his weapon against his shield and roared a challenge into the dawn tinged mist.

  Two Elks slid his bare feet through the damp foliage, there was no time to don his boots. He wanted to be sure there was nothing to trip him or make him stumble.

  The little daughter stood next to him, her back instinctively to his, her staff held parallel before her in a defensive position.

  So, whatever the threat, she had chosen not to call upon the All Mother to help defeat it. Good, he thought to himself. Whatever they were about to face, she felt them capable of handling it.

  The young Stonechosen and sorceror were on their feet and staring into the mist. Neither of them were covering the other.

  Two Elks noted Ghile still held the dwarf-made blade too tightly in one hand. He was readying the spear the people of the Cradle favored in the other. Ghile stared into the nearby waters. Unlike the sorcerer, who tossed his head left and right, the young Stonechosen seemed to know where the threat came from.

  His two valehounds crouched protectively to either side of him, their hackles raised and throaty growls filling the otherwise silent morning.

  The water in front of Ghile and the hounds exploded with two sleek black shapes. Well muscled and still glistening with the water's bluish glow, the two predators flew towards the Stonechosen and his hounds.

  A third shape broke the surface to the left of the sorcerer, using the distraction of the other two as cover. It slipped quickly from the water and belly crawled toward Riff's blind side. The black skin of its muzzle pulling back to display thick bony ridges. Two long black tails swished close to the ground as it lunged. Two Elks barely had time to cry a warning when two more of the creatures exploded from the water beside him.

  Ghile, his exhaustion gone, flung his spear just as the two feline creatures exploded from the water. He was rewarded with a satisfying thud as the spear sunk deep into one of the creature's protruding shoulders, just beyond its head. The creature twisted in midflight, its four limbs slashing the air in unison with its two pronged tail. It crashed into the ground in front of Ghile and then disappeared under the white fur and raking claws of Ast and Cuz.

  The second of the two landed between Ghile and Riff, snapping at Ghile's legs, forcing him to fall back. The thick bony ridges these creatures had in place of teeth made a sharp crack with each bite, leaving little doubt they could break bone. Ghile fell further back from the assault, he swiped his blade in defensive strokes to guard his retreat.

  Behind the advancing creature, Ghile saw Riff raising his hands, everflame playing through the sorcerer's fingertips, causing the flames' reflection to dance across his grinning face. The creature had exposed its back to Riff and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

  Ghile heard Two Elks' warning just as Riff screamed and fell to the ground. Another of the creatures had snuck up behind him and locked its jaws into Riff's leg. It immediately began dragging Riff back towards the water with powerful jerking motions. Riff began clawing at the muddy ground and grasping at nearby plants and shrubs, anything to stop from being pulled away from the others, his everflame falling to the ground forgotten.

  The creature before Ghile stopped its assault and began backing away, keeping between Ghile and the struggling Riff. Its yellow eyes were locked with Ghile's and somehow he knew it was a she and hungry. He could sense they only wanted the one of them and would take Riff and leave the others in peace. He could feel his consciousness slip deeper into those yellow eyes. He could see small black cubs in a deep warren, rolling and snarling as they played over the sole male who lounged and waited for the females to return.

  Ghile shook himself out of it and his surroundings snapped back into place. He realized it was the powers of his newly acquired soulstone.

  He had to save Riff.

  He risked a look at Gaidel and Two Elks. They both were engaged with one creature each, their backs together. The swamp cats lunged forward, snapping their jaws, but seemed more interested in keeping Two Elks and Gaidel busy than actually attacking. Ghile knew there would be no help coming. It was going to have to be him. He had to do something now.

  He focused his mind on the sounds of Ast and Cuz. He could feel them behind him. The swamp cat he had wounded with the spear was no match against the two valehounds. These creatures were quick, but not as big as one of the wolves which prowled the mountains around the Cradle. Ghile kept his fangblade before him, and focused on Cuz.

  Help me.

  Ghile felt the wet fur brush past his waist as Cuz barreled into the swamp cat who was blocking Ghile from Riff. The two animals fell into a rolling ball of hisses and barks. There was no way Ghile was going to get past the two in time.

  Even though he had the second soulstone for weeks, he had not entered the Dreaming to learn its powers. He realized now he had spent too much time practicing combat with Two Elks. Well, there was nothing for it now, he concentrated and reached out to the mind of the swamp cat who held onto Riff.

  Ghile tasted sweet warm blood in his mouth. He felt the soft give of flesh and the resistance of bone. His two tails were lashed securely around his prey's other leg and even now he felt the cool comfort of his watery home as he slid into its protection. He thought of his litter back in the warren and how pleased his mate would be with this kill.

  Ghile had the sensation of leaning into an open hole and then falling in. His consciousness was somehow now inside the swamp cat. He screamed and a feline squall filled his ears. This was wrong. He had to get out. He had to get out.

  By Daomur's short hairs, his leg hurt! Riff tried to focus, but the pain cut through everything. He had dropped his everflame when the thrice damned swamp cat had snuck up and bit into him. He should have seen it coming. It would have been nice if someone would have actually said they were about to be attacked by a pack of swamp cats instead of just yelling “To arms!”

  What could he do without his everflame, it was hard to concentrate through the pain. Maybe if he waited until the cat had him in the water to use it as a source? He could force the water down its throat and choke the thing before it ate him. He could feel the strong grip the creature had on his other leg. Its tails were almost as strong as its damnable bite.

  Without reason, the swamp cat's eyes went large and it let go of him. It began squalling like the Hungerer himself had a hold of it. Riff stared for a moment in shock, before grabbing his wounded leg. The cat thrashed half in and half out of the water.

  Well, you don't have to tell me twice, he thought.

  Riff rolled over and crawled the short distance to his everflame. He almost cried when he felt its gentle reaffirming warmth. Everflame gave off little heat, but as a source, Riff could channel it into real fire. He tried to squeeze the pain from his mind and take in the battle. Ghile's two hounds were more than holding their own against two other swamp cats. Both Gaidel and Two Elks seemed no worse for wear, but had not been able to land any telling blows against the two cats which danced about them. Of everyone, he seemed to be the only one who had been half eaten.

  “Figures. Fine, you want to pick on the little guy, huh?” Riff glanced at Ghile, who stood near him with a blank expression on his face.

  “What are you doing, Sheepherder?” Riff said. Well, at least he was nearby. Now to show these swamp cats what happens when you try to eat a sorcerer who has his own stonechosen.

  Ghile could not free his mind from the creature. He could
feel it near him, it was as confused and panicked as he was. It wanted to flee, Ghile could feel it trying to control its limbs in vain. He was trying to stand, but his paws didn't bend right and he kept falling on his side. His tails were slapping his sides and face, further confusing him. He just wanted out.

  Riff came into view. He called for help, but it only came out as another high pitched whine. Ghile watched in horror as Riff hopped to maintain his balance on his good leg and raised the everflame before him.

  As the flames washed over him, Ghile felt his fur curl and melt. His flesh bubbled under the heat. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced. His screams were torn from his throat by burning air and then he felt nothing as he was hurled into darkness.

  4

  Return to the Dreaming

  Ghile listened to the gentle lapping of nearby waves. He could hear birdsong in the distance. There was a warmth on his skin. Sunlight.

  He exhaled. He was in the dreaming again. The forested island in the center of the great lake, surrounded by mountains. He was safe.

  Something hit his head.

  “Stupid boy!” the something croaked at him. It slapped him on the head again.

  “Muk not teach you how stone work yet,” it said.

  Ghile opened his eyes and shielded his head. Another blow slapped into his arms. The goblin was bouncing from one long floppy foot to the other. His green wrinkled skin and overabundance of warts, combined with long floppy ears, would have been comical if not for the rows of sharp jagged teeth in its downturned mouth and current attitude.

  Muk struck at him again.

  “Stop hitting me,” Ghile said.

  Ghile reached into his mind and grabbed raw thought. He formed the thought into a tangible force and pushed it out before him like a wad of wool. He didn't want to hurt the little pest, but he also didn't want to be hit on the head again.